


I'll Go With You (Where You've Gotta Go)

by mistynights



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Getting Together, L&L Secret Santa 2020, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 07:28:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28467564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistynights/pseuds/mistynights
Summary: Peggy spends Christmas with Angie's family
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Angie Martinelli
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60
Collections: L&L Secret Santa 2020





	I'll Go With You (Where You've Gotta Go)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StoriesbyReese](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriesbyReese/gifts).



> This fic is a gift for Reese for the L&L Discord Secret Santa.
> 
> Reese, this is so unbelievably late, I'm really sorry, but this fic kind of got away from me. I hope you enjoy it ^^
> 
> Also, I'm aware that the way Angie's family act about her and Peggy is probably not very historically accurate. But I decided we deserve a nice Martinelli family this holidays and no one can stop me so... We're all going to have to suspend out disbelief a little.
> 
> Title from Restless Wind by Passenger

Peggy doesn’t like Christmas. Or, well, it’d be more accurate to say she doesn’t really _care_ for it.

Back in England, when she was younger Christmas was always a small thing, a reason to get together with her family. Michael had loved it, of course, and Peggy had enjoyed it. But then there was the war and no one had time to get together and then Michael had died and then Peggy had stopped caring about all that.

After Michael’s death, Peggy had joined MI5 and gotten involved, _truly involved_ , with the war effort. And then she’d left for America and hadn’t thought about Christmas as anything more than a time of year when everyone got on the streets and bought things for each other.

She’d been busy, then, after the war, drowning herself in work to forget about—events. She’d refused so many of Howard’s invitations, that first Christmas afterwards, that he’d eventually given up.

Colleen had liked Christmas, but she never did anything. With Peggy, that is. That December they lived together, she would leave constantly in the evenings for Christmas celebrations. She’d come back the next morning with a smile on her face and a new sweater or dress, talking about the evening. She even brought Peggy a little something once or twice, as a token of appreciation. And then Colleen had died, too—another name on the long list of people lost because of her—, and Peggy was left alone again.

And really, she was always so busy. Too busy. She didn’t have the time for celebrations and she was never particularly interested in _making the time_ for them, either. So she didn’t. She wished people Happy Christmas when they did so too and then she went home and stayed the night in working on some old cases or something.

Now that she’s head of SHIELD, there’s even less time to worry about it but, well. Well.

***

It’s a bit of a surprise when Peggy wakes up one day on the first week of December to Angie humming old carols and pulling boxes full of Christmas ornaments out of the attic. Peggy wasn’t even aware there were any Christmas decorations in the house but apparently there are, and she has to blink a couple times when she sees Angie in the living room, sitting amidst a sea of boxes.

She’s back in New York, living with Angie again for the first time in many years. They had a bit of a falling out when Peggy left for Los Angeles without announcing it back in ’46. But Angie has always been a better person than Peggy could even dream to be and she’d been quick to forgive once Peggy apologized.

Still, their relationship has only just started to go back to the way it used to be since they moved back together in the spring. It’s been slow going. So slow sometimes it makes Peggy fear any wrong movement will shatter it all again.

“Oh, English,” Angie says, bright and cheerful. It’s quite a rare to see her up before Peggy but, well, it’s not the strangest thing Peggy has woken up to today and that says something. “You’re just in time. I need someone to hang these lights for me.”

Peggy looks at her, brow furrowed.

“Where…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Angie is quick to say. Her mouth is quirking in a mischievous smile. “If you’re busy, I can just ask Mr. Fancy. I’m sure he would love to help me, wouldn’t he?”

Peggy shrugs helplessly, still too dumbfounded to say much.

“No matter. You can help later, after you come back from work. You better not come back too late. There’s so much to do. Honestly.”

Peggy nods. What else is there for her to do? She goes through the rest of her morning routine as if Angie weren’t pulling out adornments from an assortment of boxes Peggy had _no idea even existed._

***

The day at SHIELD is hectic as usual and by the time she’s gotten back home she’s almost forgotten about Angie’s decorations. Almost.

It’s ten in the evening but the lights in the house are still on. There’s a bright green garland decorating the entryway, and a string of colorful lights strung along the hallway. From the kitchen comes a sweet smell she doesn’t quite recognize, and Angie’s soft humming.

“Oh, English,” Angie says again like she so often does when she sees her. “You’re back early.”

“You told me not to stay late at work,” Peggy replies with a shrug. Angie’s expression morphs into something complex but it settles into a soft smile after a second.

“I’m going out to buy presents on Saturday. Do you want to come?”

Peggy’s mouth twists.

“I have meetings scheduled that day,” she says, and hates her words at the deflated look that flashes through Angie’s face, there and gone in a second. “I’m sorry, Angie. If I could—”

Angie bats the rest of her words away with a smile.

“Don’t worry about it, English. I know you’re a busy woman. Any requirements for your Christmas gift?”

Peggy considers for a second telling Angie she doesn’t need a present. But she knows such a thing will only make Angie look crestfallen, so she bites her tongue.

After a moment of thinking, she says, “nothing Howard would buy.”

Angie laughs as if she’s just told the funniest joke she’s ever heard. It’s a beautiful sound, bright enough to light the room.

“You got it. You sure you can’t make some time to come with me?”

Peggy nods. “There’s too much to do. Maybe next time.”

Angie sighs, but a ding from the oven takes her attention away from her. Peggy slips away as if nothing’s happened.

***

It keeps on going like this for several more days. Peggy wakes up to Angie decorating and goes to sleep to Angie baking something. She never gets to see what it is she’s doing. When she asks, Angie says she’s been dropping them off at her grandmother’s place for her to share with the churchgoers after the service.

“It’s a tradition. My nanna goes every day of December, but I only go once the novena starts,” she tells Peggy. Then she adds, a bright smile on her face, “You could come with me, next weekend. If you wanted to.”

She should say no. There are things that need to be done, work she should get ahead with. But there’s a flash in her mind of Angie’s hurt face last time Peggy said she was busy. Against her instinct reaction, Peggy agrees.

***

The church is one of those old neighborhood ones, with a number of families that have been going there for generations. They know everyone’s names and are aware of each other’s gossip. Peggy feels a little out of place in between the sea of long skirts and ironed suits.

She hasn’t met Angie’s family, but she’s heard so much about them that sometimes she feels like she has. Angie introduces her to her parents and her grandmother and her siblings and her cousins and—there are so many Martinellis, it’s honestly kind of ridiculous. Still, Peggy smiles and is graceful about it all.

She stands by Angie’s side, holding a box full of baked goods. She hadn’t even _known_ Angie could bake before this December. She should have guessed, probably. Angie is a really good cook. But she never bakes at home. And, well, maybe Peggy’s a bit… No. No, jealous is not a word that could be used in this context. It just—it makes no sense. Why would she be jealous? Maybe surprised would work best. She’ll have to think about it. Preferably many many years in the future, when Angie is no longer within touching distance.

Peggy doesn’t do much that evening, after the service. She mostly just stands there and “looks pretty”, as Angie calls it. She hands out packets of baked goods and lets Angie lead all the talk. By eight they’ve given away everything Angie brought and are helping Angie’s mother with her own batch of food.

“What a nice young lady,” Angie’s mother says in quiet Italian when there’s a lull in the people coming to great them. Peggy casts a glance at them but neither is looking at her. She thinks Angie’s mother must not expect her to be able to understand. “So polite, too. You’ve picked well.”

“Mamma,” Angie says, tone both a warning and a plea.

Her mother ignores her, and Peggy has to look away to avoid saying something she shouldn’t.

“You should invite her over for Christmas. Poor thing, alone for the holidays, all her family in another country.”

“She’s probably busy, mamma. English works very hard.”

“On Christmas?” Her mother asks, looking taken aback.

Out of the corner of her eye, Peggy can see Angie shrug, looking down at one of the boxes by her feet.

“Well,” her mother says after a pause, “you should invite her anyways. Maybe she’ll surprise you.”

She drifts away soon after that, leaving Angie and Peggy with the boxes of food while she goes over to talk with some of the other families present. The silence between grows heavy, even with the chattering people on the background.

“Angie,” Peggy begins, but Angie interrupts her with a gasp.

“Oh, look, Carlotta is here. Come, English,” she adds, turning to look at her with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You _have_ to try her casserole before it runs out.”

Angie is pulling her in the direction of a cluster of people before she can even understand what’s happening.

***

“You’re taking a break,” Howard says two days before Christmas.

He’s cornered Peggy on the hallway outside of her office and his eyes gleam with the kind of mischief only Howard Stark can get up to.

“Pardon?” Peggy asks, putting her fiercest expression in an attempt to persuade him from whatever has gotten into his head now. It doesn’t work, of course. It seldom does with Howard’s antics.

“A break, Peggy. Surely you know what that is,” Howard replies. Peggy rolls her eyes, which only makes Howard continue with more enthusiasm. “It’s the Christmas season, and I know you don’t like going to parties so I’m not going to force you to attend any of the many many events where the head of SHIELD should make an appearance. In exchange for such a magnanimous act, I don’t want to see your face around here again until January. At least.”

Peggy sighs.

“Not happening. Too much to be done.”

“Margaret Elizabeth Carter,” Howard says, “you _will_ take a break. And either you will do it voluntarily, or I will lock you up in my basement. The Jarvises are even willing to help!”

That makes Peggy deflate. While she can easily take on Edwin and Ana Jarvis, the emotional cost of such a fight would be too much for her.

“Fine. I’ll be back on the first. If there are any emergencies—”

“Yes, yes, I’ll let you know. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure we can handle it.”

With that, he walks away, leaving no room for further argument.

***

Angie is surprised to see her the next morning still at home, doing her best to look like she isn’t fretting over missing work.

“Fancy seeing you here, English,” Angie says. Peggy shrugs.

“Howard has threatened me. I’m not to return to work until the beginning of January.” Angie snorts.

“What a wise man he is sometimes. No wonder people call him a genius.” She flutters around the house and when she comes back she says, “Do you want some breakfast? I was going to heat up some leftovers for me. But if you’re eating too then I can make something else.”

They eat breakfast together and Peggy walks Angie to the door afterwards. She spends the day poring over old reports she’d really rather burn, and only stops when Angie comes back late in the evening. She gives Peggy one look and sighs.

“I bet you didn’t eat lunch,” she says, and moves to pull food containers from the fridge without waiting for a response.

As Angie reheats some leftovers she looks at Peggy seriously.

“If you’re not going to the office for the holidays,” she says, “what are you gonna do?”

“Nothing,” Peggy replies. “Stay here, maybe work from home. There’s so much paperwork that no one had the time to fill. I’m hoping to have a chunk of it by the time I return.”

Angie tsks.

“I’m going to my nanna’s house tomorrow. The family usually stays together until the day after Christmas.”

“Ah,” Peggy says, and she’s—oddly disappointed. Not that she has any reason to be, but it gnaws on her insides, furious and distracting. “Happy Christmas, then. I hope you have fun.”

Angie hums. That seems to be it for a while until Angie turns off the stove and takes the food to the table.

“You could come with me, you know,” she says while she serves for the two of them. Peggy stares.

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Angie bats her free hand in the air.

“Nonsense. My family would love to have you over. They liked you, you know, when you came to the service with me. And I know they’re curious to know more about you.” She pauses, sits down. A moment passes before she looks up at Peggy again and says, “plus, it’d be a shame for anyone to spend Christmas alone.”

Peggy looks at her plate and stirs her food from side to side for a little while.

“Well,” she says finally. “I suppose since I’ve nothing better to do, I could help out at your home.”

Angie laughs.

“Yes. Yes, you could. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

***

The thing about Christmas in the Carter home is that it was never a big thing. It was a chance to see each other after Michael left the house, and before that, it’d been a night to spend together without worrying about the outside world. So it wasn’t a big deal, and Peggy’s extended family wasn’t particularly close so they never visited for the holidays. It was always Peggy, her brother and their parents, sitting around the dining room table on Christmas Eve and opening presents around a tree on Christmas morning. That was it.

The Martinellis are quite the opposite. They’re all there, loud and bright, laughing and exchanging anecdotes and cheering on the group of little kids running around the house. Peggy feels out of place. More than she ever has in her life.

Angie has her carrying the gifts because, “Well, you should use those muscles of yours for something during the holidays. What will you do if you go back to the office and have forgotten how to use them?” It’s a stupid reason, but Peggy is, nonetheless, unable to refuse her.

They put the gifts by the tree in the living room. There’s a nativity scene on the table next to it, decorated with little houses and animal figurines.

“Well, English,” Angie says, eyes shining in mischief. “I hope you have good memory because you’re gonna have to remember everyone’s names by the end of the night.”

It’s the only warning Peggy gets before Angie begins introducing family members that hadn’t been there at the service and reintroducing those who had. By the end of it, Peggy thinks names have lost all meaning.

Introductions done with, Angie guides her to a room upstairs.

“It’s a little cramped this year,” Angie explains, closing the door behind them. “I hope you don’t mind sharing.”

She says this last part while pointing at the double bed in the middle of the room. Peggy shakes her head.

“No, of course not. I’m the one intruding here, after all.”

“You’re not intruding. I invited you. You can get settled. I need to find some things for tonight’s dinner.”

“Do you need help with anything?” Peggy asks. They’re staying here three days and, as such, she’s only brought a small suitcase with her. She settles it down by the dresser and turns in time to see Angie shake her head.

“Thank you, English. I can manage.”

Angie smiles at her. There’s so much warmth in that smile, Peggy thinks she’ll get burned if she gets too close. She would accept it, gladly, if Angie were okay with that.

***

Everyone’s very cheerful, though she thinks she catches two of Angie’s cousins slipping out the back door to fight at one point. They come back inside a little while later, smiling wide, one of them with a split lip dripping blood onto his white shirt. No one pays attention to them, concerning as it might seem to an outsider. They appear almost used to it, if Peggy had to guess. Out of politeness, Peggy doesn’t bring attention to the whole thing either.

She does mutter to Angie, “having fun, are they?”

“They’re always like that,” Angie replies, waving a hand in front of her. “Just ignore them.”

Peggy tries. It soon slips her mind, anyway. Suddenly Angie’s grandmother is asking her to help with the cooking and Angie’s laughing because they both know Peggy’s a disaster in the kitchen and will burn almost anything. She follows them into the kitchen and puts Peggy on cutting duty while she helps with stirring the pots and adding ingredients.

“At least you’re good with knives,” she says cheerfully as she passes by and takes some of the vegetables Peggy’s been cutting.

It’s fun, surprisingly, being there in the kitchen, amongst Angie’s aunts and cousins, listening to them gossip and joke. Different, she supposes would be one way to put it. She isn’t used to this kind of situations, so she doesn’t have much to compare it to. But by the end of it, she realizes, startlingly, that she’s had a good time.

They set the table and Angie sits directly in front of her. She wishes they were sitting next to each other. As it is, though, she’s ended up in between one of Angie’s brothers and one of her cousins, Gino and Ralphie, if Peggy is remembering correctly. She’s never had a problem holding her own against men but, right now, she can’t help but feel intimidated at the look they both give her.

“So you’re the one living with Angie,” Gino says, not really a question.

“Yes,” she agrees, and shoves a spoonful of food into her mouth.

“Huh. No fucking wonder,” he says, but doesn’t clarify when Peggy looks at him. Opposite from them, Angie gives him a long look, meaningful in a way that Peggy can’t quite understand. It’s a little like not being in on a joke.

From her other side, Ralphie snorts.

“Yeah,” he says, dragging the syllable out far longer than necessary. “No wonder.”

“Did Angie ever tell you about little Suzie, from when we were children?” Gino asks. Angie makes a high-pitched noise that sounds a little like _don’t._

“I don’t believe so,” Peggy replies, cautious. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he says, smile mischievous but not outright malicious. “You reminded me of her, is all.”

Ralphie hums in agreement.

“She and Angie used to be close, back then.”

A balled up napkin falls in his plate and Angie’s pointed look makes them both laugh. They seem ready to continue their teasing, but Angie’s grandmother makes a curious sound that makes all three of them look sheepish, and they drop the subject. The whole thing leaves Peggy confused but her curiosity isn’t great enough for her to risk bringing the subject up. She can live without knowing what all of that was about.

***

After dinner, as everyone moves to the living room, Angie excuses herself to go upstairs. She looks upset, face set in a sharp expression so unlike her it makes Peggy’s heart twinge.

As she leaves the room, there’s a lull in the chatter and all eyes focus on Gino and Ralphie. Angie’s mother comes from the kitchen, a severe look in her eyes. She swats at both their heads before turning towards Peggy and gesturing to an empty corner for them to talk in.

“She’s the sensible kind, our Angie,” she says, once they’re away from the main reunion, and her eyes soften just a little at that. When she continues a second later, she gives Peggy a meaningful look. “She cares about you, truly. Cares about what you think.”

Peggy looks at her for a moment before her words, her tone, really sink in. When they do, though, she can’t help feeling a little faint.

“I care about her, too.”

Peggy’s words are soft. They’re not a revelation, not really, but they nonetheless feel heavy on her tongue. It’s an admission that carries the weight of old unspoken words. Angie’s mother smiles.

“Good,” she says, and Peggy is surprised to find she sounds genuine. “Take care of her for us.”

Peggy nods and excuses herself to check on Angie. She thinks she can feel Angie’s mother watching her while she goes up the stairs. It shouldn’t be as unnerving as it is.

***

When Peggy and Angie first became friends, Peggy had been taken aback by Angie’s forwardness. Even when in public, Angie was always ready with a flirty comment and a sweet smile. She was never reckless about it, though, never put either of them in danger because of it. She knew how to read situations and navigate through them to get away with things more would never even dare imagine. It had been shocking, at first, but Peggy would be lying if she said she hadn’t been at least a little bit intrigued, a little bit impressed.

She also would be lying if she said she never noticed the weight behind Angie’s words. She was an agent at the time, she could make deductions.

The thing is, Peggy really likes Angie, has liked her for a very long time. And based on what she’d noticed back then, it isn’t a huge leap to assume her feelings had been returned. But, well—

Any chance of a relationship of that nature between them came crashing down the day Peggy left for Los Angeles.

Even now, with their relationship mostly back to what it once was, it all feels too fragile to try anything. Peggy feels as if they’re carrying a crystal ornament between them, prone to shattering with a wrong move. She refuses to be the cause it breaks, but maybe, maybe—

***

In the room, Angie’s sitting in front of the dresser, looking in the mirror and fiddling with her hair despite it being near perfect.

“They mean well,” she says once Peggy slips inside and closes the door. “I know they do. It’s just—I tried to tell them it wasn’t like that for us. I don’t think they cared.”

Peggy moves to stand behind her, sets a hand gently on Angie’s to stop their fidgeting. Carefully, she passes the tips of her fingers through Angie’s hair, pulling the few errant strands back in place. She thinks she feels Angie sag a little at the gesture, but she’s too focused on the task at hand to pay attention.

“I wish they hadn’t said anything.” Angie waits until Peggy’s finished and moved her hand away before speaking up again. “I don’t want to be the reason you disappear again.”

Peggy feels a lump grow in her throat at that, and she fixes her eyes on Angie’s reflection in the mirror.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know. But you understand why that’s a concern?” Peggy nods, because she does, she _does_. She has had time, ever since she first spoke with Angie, to understand and regret the effects of her actions.

“Angie,” she says, voice soft, crouching down next to Angie’s chair to look her in the eye. She takes a deep breath before continuing. “I’ll stay by your side, if that’s what you want, until you grow tired of me.”

Angie laughs, though it sounds a little chocked. Carefully, she sets her hand on Peggy’s arm.

“You think too high of yourself, English.’

Peggy, too, laughs and puts her hand on top of hers, lacing their fingers together. Angie’s fingers are warm and soft. A stray thought crosses her mind, unbidden, that she’d be happy not letting go.

A noise from downstairs cuts that thought short, though. Angie sighs and slowly moves away.

“We should go,” she says. “Nana won’t let anyone miss the midnight mass, but—”

She cuts herself short with a sigh, and Peggy nods. They both stand up and walk to the door. Right before Peggy opens it, Angie calls her name. When she turns around, Angie’s expression is soft.

“We’ll talk more, later,” she says, in a voice that leaves no room for argument. Peggy nods. It’s not like she has any reason to refuse. “But I like that idea. You by my side. I like it very much.”

It feels like a promise, Peggy thinks. One she’ll try her best to keep.


End file.
